


Don't Go To War For Me

by somethingnerdythiswaycomes



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Break Up, Dissociation, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 19:03:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8501788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingnerdythiswaycomes/pseuds/somethingnerdythiswaycomes
Summary: Brooks doesn’t know how he feels, or maybe he isn’t feeling anything, and maybe that’s the problem.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lightynight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightynight/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Don't Think About Why](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8388133) by [somethingnerdythiswaycomes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingnerdythiswaycomes/pseuds/somethingnerdythiswaycomes). 



> im the kind of trash that writes stuff based off my own work why is anyone surprised
> 
> Really, though, inspired by the amazing mix lightynight put together. i literally cried listening to it and it gave me so many feels about brooks honestly so here you go
> 
> I do not represent any real people presented as characters, nor do I make any claims about what they do or do not do in their private lives.

He feels…

He doesn’t know how he feels, or maybe he isn’t feeling anything, and maybe that’s the problem.

 _It’s not every day you get traded away like this_ , Brooks thinks distantly, before Andre’s jabbing him in the chest and shouting something at him, pulling him back into his body, their argument.

His words stick like honey in his mouth, and spit out like acid, his hand flying up to grab Andre’s.  _Too tight_ , his mind says, but he can’t get his body to listen.

He can barely register what he’s saying, but he knows it’s hurtful, he can see it on Andre’s face, the agony painted all over his face.  But he keeps talking, keeps _talking_ , why can’t he _stop_ —

He can’t watch Andre gather up his things.  He can’t watch it, but his body can go back to the couch, sit ramrod straight with his hands on his knees.

“If you asked me to, I’d forgive you.”

It’s too late, though.  It’s too late, Brooks has said too much of – something.  He can’t ask Andre to forgive him.  Andre can’t forgive him.

“Get home safe,” he manages to say.

It’s like the slam of the front door jolts him back together, his body finally listening to his mind again, but even if his mind is shouting _chase after him_ , he knows he shouldn’t.  Can’t.

He gasps, like he’s coming up for air.

“Fuck,” Brooks pants, his fingers digging into his thighs.  “Fuck, _fuck_.”

He – he fucking broke up with Andre.  Worse than that – he said he didn’t want him, after this long, when Brooks is pretty sure Andre loved him, when Brooks is _sure_ he loves Andre, he… he ended it.

“Fuck,” he groans, clenching his eyes shut.

But – they couldn’t have stayed together.  Brooks wouldn’t be coming back to DC.  This was it.  He’d get a flight to Toronto, probably the next morning, and he’d be gone.

He always knew they couldn’t last.  He could see that Andre was – was stagnating with him.  They weren’t going to last.

Or is he just saying that to make himself feel better?

Brooks turns off the tv and stares at himself in the blank screen for a moment.

“Fuck,” he says again, tired.

No, they weren’t going to last.  He could see it at the beginning of the season, when Andre was so drawn to Holts, he’d known it would happen sooner or later.  He’d known they wouldn’t last longer than another season or two, _tops_ , but he’d been selfish.  He’d ignored it.

He isn’t what Andre needs.  Somehow, he’s what Andre wants, and that _hurts_.

He stands up and goes into his room, pulling out the same bag he’s used for every roadie in the last half-decade, and starts packing.  Underwear, button downs, ties, t-shirts, pajama pants.  Nothing with the Capitals logo, nothing about DC, nothing that makes him think of Andre.

He’s not left with much.

He should text Andre.  He should call him.  Try to explain what’s swirling through his head, now, all the things he should’ve said instead of the bile that flew out of him before.

His phone buzzes.

 _I’m not that lucky_ , he thinks, and sure enough, it isn’t Andre.

 _Andre doesn’t need you_ , is what he says to himself, and it’s true.  Andre never needed him.  If Brooks hadn’t stepped in at the beginning of last season to put Andre down, he would’ve just gone to Holts then and he wouldn’t have needed Brooks at all to take up almost two seasons of his time.

“Fuck,” he sighs, and types back a response to Wilson, and keeps packing.

He’s interrupted by another buzz.

It had to be this way.  There’s no world where he and Andre would end up together.  It just wouldn’t happen.  There’s too much time between them, too much of a gap, between someone on the last legs of his career and another just starting out.  Brooks couldn’t rob Andre of the time he needed to develop his game, bond with the guys the same age as him.

Sometimes Brooks would mention, off-hand, a tv show he used to watch his rookie year, or some guy he played with or against, and Andre would giggle and say _that was on when I was 3_ or _I think I was too young to remember him_ and Brooks would freeze.

They would never work out.  That makes it a little easier, maybe, to deal with the fact that he _broke up with Andre_.

But it has to be this way.  That’s what he’s sure of.  He did the right thing, instead of having Andre pining after him while they were apart.  If he’d been gentle about it, Andre would think he could get Brooks back, he wouldn’t move on.  It’s better that Andre’s angry, and maybe hates him, instead of sitting around hoping Brooks will change his mind.  It’s better, right?  This way he’ll find a new Dom.  Someone that’s better for him.

 _Braden_ , his mind helpfully supplies.

And maybe Brooks will find a new sub in Toronto.  Maybe he won’t, but that doesn’t matter.

“It has to be this way,” Brooks tells himself, staring down at the drawer full of shirts he can’t bear to pack, not when he can so clearly picture Andre cooking breakfast in the gray one, and Andre lounging around on the couch in the green, and Andre brushing his teeth in the red one.  “He’ll see that."

**Author's Note:**

> I HAVE MORE I WANT TO WRITE TOO. CAN I JUST WRITE AN AU OF MY AU WHERE BROOKS AND ANDRE GET TO BE TOGETHER AND FIGURE OUT THE LDR
> 
> title taken from "We Won't" by Jaymes Young and Phoebe Ryan, which is on the mix and gave me All The Feelings.
> 
> join me in sin on tumblr @ somethingnerdythiswaycomes


End file.
